Recollections
by jane0904
Summary: Mal's waiting for the skiff to pass by in Serenity Valley before heading back to the bunker, and memories come flooding back.  Just preseries.


The skiff flying overhead was picking off men too easily. Its forward guns just had to strafe the ground, and good Browncoats kept falling. Something would have to be done about that. Sergeant Mal Reynolds, sitting in a bomb crater some three hundred yards from his dugout, knew it was probably gonna have to be him.

He lifted the cross from inside his shirt and held it to his lips. As he did so he heard his Ma's voice just as clearly as if she was standing next to him.

"Malcolm Reynolds, you come in here right now!"

Maybe four, five years old, standing by the coral, grinning as the hands saddled up ready for work.

"Ain't you gonna come out with us, little Mal?" Coot Henderson asked, mounting his piebald with ease.

"No he ain't," Alice Reynolds said, crossing the yard and picking up her son. "He's gonna come inside and eat his breakfast. Then he's getting a haircut." She brushed his bangs off his face. "Can't hardly see those pretty blue eyes of yours," she said softly.

"They ain't pretty," Ethan Reynolds commented, putting his arm around his wife's waist. "He's a boy. Boys don't have pretty eyes."

"He does. Just like you." She let her husband kiss her. "But you be careful out there. Those steers are fractious 'cause of the storm."

He laughed. "I will."

"I want to go with them," Mal said, wriggling in his mother's embrace.

Ethan took his son, settling him on his own hip. "Next time. I promise. We'll make sure you come with us. Okay?"

"Okay, Pa." Mal grinned, letting his father put him back onto the ground. He watched him climb up onto his own big bay.

"See you suppertime, Alice," Ethan said. "Make sure you've got something good on the table."

"When don't I?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan laughed again, then spurred his horse into a gallop.

Mal stood in the yard, feeling the first spots of rain on his face, and watched his father ride away for the last time, the memory of those big hands holding him one of the few he'd ever have.

There was no rain to hide the tear that ran down his face as he kissed the cross, but he wiped it roughly away, smearing the dirt on his face even more. So many memories.

A shell exploded only a few yards away, and he ducked, feeling mud and small rocks batter him. Close. Maybe too close. He should get moving soon. He lay back and looked up into the sky, trying to see the skiff. No sign of it, but it had to be around somewhere. No way those arrogant bastards would pull such a mightily effective piece of machinery out when it was doing such a good job killing good men and women.

He could see the stars. From down here they were sparkling, twinkling away because of all the dust and smoke in the air, but from up there, out in the black, he knew they were steady, unfailing.

He used to watch the stars when he was a boy. His bedroom was in the roof, a small window looking up. When the night was clear he'd lie in bed, staring at the bright pinpricks of light. Sometimes it wasn't enough, and on still summer evenings he'd take a blanket out to the field behind the house and just let himself be intoxicated by them.

"They got you again, Malcolm?" his mother asked. She always called him Malcolm.

He sighed happily. "Guess so, Ma."

She joined him on the blanket, lying down so she could look up too. "What's that one called?" she asked, pointing to a bright star at the centre of what looked like a cross.

"Aguila. Means 'eagle'."

"Do you know that, or are you just making it up?"

"Mrs Gingrich showed us some charts last week. It kinda stuck in my mind a bit."

She smiled at him. "Lots of things stick in your mind, don't they?"

"Well, it's nice to learn things. Can't see the point of most of it, but … I like it."

"Must be your father's influence, 'cause I never liked school," his mother admitted. "I went because my Pa told me I should, but I never did enjoy it."

"Ma, you know lots of stuff," he said stoutly.

"You think?"

"You keep this place running, and that's hard. I know that for a fact. Mr Jacks said so, that it was a miracle, the ranch being so big 'n'all."

"It ain't just me, Malcolm." She put her hand under her head. "Got enough good hands, and they make it easier."

"Still, you got to pay 'em, make sure you ain't getting gypped at the feedstore, and keep the books. I'd say that was pretty impressive."

She laughed. "You know the right things to say, you do know that, don't you? Just like your Pa."

"Hope so."

For a while they lay quietly, then she stirred. "You really wanna go out there? Be among those stars of yours?"

"One day. Just to see what it's really like, see if they really shine so steady you can believe they're gonna be around forever."

"Hope you do, Malcolm. I hope you do."

He had. On the transport ship, and they shined, harder and more permanent than he could ever imagine.

The skiff whined overhead, its guns rattling death.

"_Cao_."

"Don't you be cussing," his mother warned. "You ain't so big I can't put you over my knee."

"But I want to get up." Mal tried to put as much wheedling into his voice as he could, but he didn't have the strength.

She pressed him back onto the pillows. "You've been sick. You're getting better, but I ain't having you staggering to the bathroom just so you can fall down the stairs. You need to go, you do it in there." She pointed to the bottle on the bedside table.

"It ain't dignified!"

"Don't care." She stood up and crossed her arms. "You need to pee, you use that."

"Ma …"

"And that tone don't work." He attempted to look pathetic, and she softened somewhat. "Malcolm, please understand. Every day you get stronger is good, but you ain't there yet. You've been lying here for a long time, and … well, it takes it out of a body. Muscles stop being like they were, and …" She closed her eyes, and maybe for the first time he realised he really had nearly died. She'd thought he wasn't gonna make it to his eleventh birthday.

"Sorry, Ma," he whispered.

She looked at him. "Don't be. Weren't your fault. Don't you ever apologise for something that weren't your fault. But you have to be sensible." She sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed his forehead. The fever had long gone, but the effects hadn't. "If you behave now, maybe tomorrow I'll get Coot to carry you down and we can put you outside for a while. Make it nice and comfy for you."

"Kinda like having a picnic?"

She smiled. "Yeah. Like that. And I can make some lemonade, and Mrs Gingrich brought by some fruit. I think there's some bananas …" She stopped at the look on his face. "But you like bananas."

"I know, but … somehow just the idea …" He shuddered.

"Okay, no bananas. There's a few apples too, if they're more to your liking."

"They sound okay."

"So we have a deal?"

He smiled. "Okay."

"Good." She handed him the bottle and he slid it under the sheet, blushing furiously. He waited for her to go, but she just stood looking at him.

"Ma!"

"All right, I'm going."

Didn't have enough moisture in him to need relief now. Just a lot of dust and crud. How much of that crud was made up of blood and gore he wasn't too keen on finding out.

He lifted his head to peer over the edge of the hole. At least he knew where they were. Trouble was, they seemed to have a pretty good idea of where he was too. Another shell exploded, this time further off. They sure were bent on killing him. Really annoying.

"Why not?" Alice Reynolds asked, standing erect and proud in the hall. "It's our day. Our founder's fair. What's it got to do with the Alliance?"

The man on the small dais looked down his nose at her. "The Alliance has determined that all planets and moons under its control should all celebrate homogenously."

"Sounds painful," came a voice from the back of the room that Mal recognised as Maddy's father. He turned in his seat and checked. Yeah, there he was, with his brood around him. Maddy was sitting in front, rolling her eyes. She saw him watching her, and smiled, waving her fingers at him.

He turned back. She'd been getting very clingy of late. Talking of homes and marriage and kids. He wasn't ready for any of those. Not yet. Not at his age. Might be nearly seventeen, but that was too young. Way too young.

The man on the dais looked as if his lips would disappear, he was tightening them so hard. "I mean, we should all be celebrating the same holidays at the same time."

"Well, that's fine by us," Mal's mother said. "You can all celebrate our founder's day too."

There was a general laughter from the crowd in the hall.

"That wasn't quite –"

"Oh, I know that, young man." Her eyes flashing fire, she stepped forward. "So you're telling me that, because some high falutin' idiot on some planet who doesn't even know we exist has decided it's gonna be so, then we can't set up sideshows and tents in our own town to give thanks for those brave people who first settled here. Right?"

The man nodded. "That's correct."

"Hell, why didn't you just say so? Can't break the law now, can we?" She turned to the other people, and Mal had never felt so proud of her. "So, come the time we would've had founder's day, you all just come out to my place. We can have a quiet sitdown and a drink, and if some enterprising soul should set up a Ferris wheel, or a coconut shy, well … I'd surely be telling him off, but what can you do?"

Everyone clapped, and the man on the dais banged a gavel on the desk, but not a one took any notice of him.

Always was saying her mind, his Ma. Seemed like he'd inherited that at least from her, according to his superiors. They kept telling him he'd have made more than sergeant by now if he'd just kept his mouth shut, but he never did. Told 'em like it was. And he pretty much needed to tell them how this was out here too.

He slid back down and checked his ammo. Enough to get back, then he could reload. Had to be some way of taking that gorram skiff down without … yeah. He grinned. That might work. With Zoe to back him up, couple of men as cover … sure, he could do it. The grin widened. Might even be fun.

A star shell overhead illuminated the landscape for a moment, and he saw a glint on his chest. He hadn't put the cross back safe again, and he quickly tucked it inside his shirt, his fingers catching on the ring sewn into the red bandanna around his neck.

"You take it."

"No, Ma, I can't."

She looked up into his blue eyes and he could see she was wondering when he'd gotten so tall. "You take it or I'll …"

"What, Ma?" he teased. "Spank me? You never did, so there's no point in threatening it now."

"It's not too late."

"Yeah, it is." He put his hand on her shoulder, feeling the bones through her skin. "I'm a soldier now. You can't spank a soldier." He laughed. "Well, not 'less I pay extra."

She swatted him on the arm. "Now you don't talk like that. You know I don't approve of anyone making money out of love. It ain't right."

"I know, Ma. And I wouldn't."

"Good." She took hold of his hand and pressed the ring into it. "Now take it."

"But Ma –"

"I want you to keep it safe, until you find the woman you're gonna marry. And that'll be forever, won't it?"

He smiled. "Course it will."

"And you bring her here before you do anything stupid. I want to look her over, make sure she's good enough for me."

"And if she isn't?"

"Well, I'll have a few words to say to that hussy who's trying to steal my boy."

He laughed. "And if I ain't good enough for her?"

"Then she'll be lucky to have you." She closed his fingers. "You take it. And remember me."

"I ain't gonna forget you. How can I? You're my Ma."

"I know, but … Mal, this war's gonna pull so many into it. The Alliance don't have any idea what they've bitten off, and … I'm scared."

He felt his heart beat faster. She was never scared. "It'll be all right, Ma," he said, touching the silver cross she'd given him for his eighteenth birthday two years before at his throat. "We got God on our side. We're gonna win."

"God's on our side, huh? Does He know this?"

He managed to look shocked. "Ma!"

She managed a shaky smile. "Okay, so we'll win. Then what'll you do?"

"Come home. I figure I'll have done with seeing the 'verse by then."

"You see that you do." She straightened his collar and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. "You take care, you hear?"

"I will, Ma. And I'll write. Hell, probably get leave in a couple of months and I can come back, help you with the autumn sales."

"Sure." She stood back. "Well, you'd better be getting going. That transport ain't gonna wait forever."

"Yeah, I guess." He looked at her, seeing the weight of the years more on her than before, and without a thought swept her into his arms, hugging her tightly. Her arms clutched at him, her hands tangling themselves in his suspenders.

"Oh Mal …"

He swallowed hard, knowing tears were threatening.

She let go. Stepped away from him, tugging her floral dress back smooth. "You go on now."

He nodded. "I'll see you soon, Ma."

"I'm holding you to that, Malcolm Reynolds."

His last sight of her had been as he rounded the bend in the road, before the trees had hidden his home from view. She was watching, her arm above her head, shading her eyes from the sun. He waved, and she waved back, then she was gone. Yet he was sure, even as the transport left Shadow, ferrying him to the training camp, she was still there, waiting, eyes searching the skies for the flare of the ship taking him away from her.

Never did get home.

"I miss you, Ma," he whispered, his voice lost in the sound of battle.

The skiff had made another strafing run, and he could hear an armoured carrier approaching. Time to go. He levered himself out of the foxhole and ran hell for leather towards his bunker, firing behind him all the time. He grinned. First they'd take down that skiff, then Command'd bring in the air support. Serenity Valley would never know what hit it.


End file.
